


Chills

by DilophoLehnsherr



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blankets, Dogs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Otasune, Pneumonia, Sickfic, Vomiting, bc this is very self-indulgent, dave being stubborn, if that lmao, snake smooches, snotacon - Freeform, take care of yourself asshole, this is gonna be like... 3 chapters, you cant defeat bacterial infections by hiding in a carboard box
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-22 12:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15581862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DilophoLehnsherr/pseuds/DilophoLehnsherr
Summary: Dave has never been the best at taking care of himself, always putting others' well-being before his own, no matter how dire the situation may be. This time, it actually did come back to kick him in the ass.Or, that time Dave caught pneumonia, and Hal had to play nurse to the most stubborn man on the face of the earth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely because I desperately need something self-indulgent after the shit I have been going through lately. Financial stress due to unforeseen loopholes in the Canadian student loans department causing them to deny me funding altogether despite being a born and raised Canadian citizen plus uni demanding paperwork I can't get there on time without hiring a 200 dollar courier service on top of anxiety and depressive episodes??? Desperately attempting to fill the gaps in my funded by writing like 50 essays a day in hopes I win a gotdamn scholarship?? Begging everyone I know for pet and babysitting jobs over the summer but everyone's fucking GONE because this entire country CLEARS in the summers??? Yeah I've been fine wbu  
> Yeah student loans denied me on the basis that I went to high school outside of Canada which is... bullshit considering I'm a CANADIAN CITIZEN born in CANADA and going to uni in CANADA  
> Anyway I'm mad and stressed out so,,, I'm writing Snotacon at 3am to combat it apparently which actually worked pretty damn well

It was the little moments that one had to appreciate the most. The serene atmosphere of log-patterned walls, the faint smell of outside pine alluding to a false sense of security, the quiet afternoons spent almost believing it was all over. That there would be no more life-threatening nor potentially world-ending events to put to a stop; no more functioning as the last line of defense, yet never getting the credit for it. Maybe the next terrorist threat wouldn’t happen today, or tomorrow, or even this year, but like clockwork, it always came back to bite them in the ass with the threat of nuclear war. 

But until then, they had this. A modest little life; most would call it small. That was okay. They liked it cozy, out of the way, a place where they could hear themselves think rather than an urgent codec buzzing in their ears. No, the only sounds to occupy this space were the rustling of trees in the outdoor wind, the song of dogs play-fighting in the grass, and the steady, peaceful snores and mumblings of the man currently dozing on the opposite couch.

Hal would occasionally glance up from his laptop, blinking behind large glasses to ensure Dave still slept on, undisturbed, unplagued. The poor guy rarely got the luxury of a full, fulfilling night’s sleep, his dreams often cursed by the touch of his past regrets and reoccuring terrors. Seeing him so content, so relaxed, so deeply caught in the grip of his slumber made Hal’s heart warm in his chest, sending butterflies from his stomach up into his throat. Dave was happy. His Dave was happy. That was enough. 

Dave shifted from his side onto his stomach, one arm hanging limply over the side of the couch, his face obscured from his horrific bedhead. A grumbled “hhngh… Terminator 2 was better…” sounded from him. Hal had to bite down to keep himself from giggling, for he didn’t wish to wake him when these restful moments were so rare. Oh, Dave. Ever the cult film geek.

Hal carefully set his laptop down on the coffee table in front of him, a new motivational force guiding him away from his work and towards their bedroom. There was quite an assortment of blankets to choose from, folded on the foot of their bed for the particularly cold nights. Hmm. Dave got cold easily, even if he never admitted to it, chattering teeth or not, so Hal picked the thick, woolen one to bring back to the living room.

With deft, experienced movements, he lightly placed the sheet over Dave’s sleeping form, gently tucking him in. Dave instinctively curled up under the warmth, and one hand tugged the hem of the blanket just over his nose, so he looked more like a human burrito now, rambling on in incoherent mumbles about his imaginary argument with a fellow movie buff. Aww. Hal HAD to document this, so he fished out his phone, leaned back to get the best view, and snapped a few photos of his partner so detached from his usual gruff masculinity. Seeing his softer side was something of a privilege, really. Hal felt honoured that Dave trusted him enough to expose his weak points.

Hal’s attention was diverted when he heard a quiet plink! Against the roof. He glanced up, but nothing was there. Eh, probably a bird or something. He turned to go back to his work, only to hear more erratic, random noises. Hal looked to the windows this time, and found that it was raining, the spitting rapidly picking up into what would no-doubt be a heavy downpour given a few minutes. 

Hal sighed in mild annoyance. He liked the rain, he really did; it was getting the dogs inside and dried off that presented the challenge. While they were affectionate towards him, they really only listened to Dave. That was fair, for he was their rightful master; Hal had come into the picture later. Still, he didn’t want to wake Dave up, so he was the one to head to the front door, grab the umbrella off the wall and step out onto their rather large porch, used mostly for stargazing while sipping on cheap beer. 

Hal whistled as loud as he could, beckoning their rightful pack of canines to seek shelter from the possible oncoming storm, but none of them came. Even stranger was the fact that none could be seen rolling in the fresh mud or play-fighting on their land. Hal decided to shout now, yet still no sight of fuzzy snouts or the sound of fluffy paws tromping in the dirt. Figuring they might be farther out than usual, Hal stepped out of the cover of the porch with intent to hunt them down himself, and in the time that would have been used to open his umbrella, he immediately jumped back. A few stray raindrops had hit him, and they felt like shards of ice piercing his skin only to form a small residue of frost where they had hit not a moment before. Oh, no. Freezing rain. Why couldn’t it have been a thunderstorm? 

At any rate, it was dangerous to be out in that for too long, so Hal had no choice; he needed Dave’s commanding voice over his dogs. Hal rushed back inside, not bothering to kick his shoes off as he strode into the living room, and gently shook Dave’s shoulder, a small pang of regret in his stomach for disturbing something he so dearly needed. “Hey, Dave? Wake up, big guy.” 

Dave stirred, at first making an annoyed grunt and hiding his entire head under the blanket, as if his groggy logic dictated that if he covered himself completely, no one could see him and wake him up. Under any other circumstances, Hal would’ve smiled endearingly. Unfortunately, there was a more pressing matter to attend to, so Hal simply leaned a bit closer so Dave could hear him, and said “our dogs are outside in the freezing rain.”

As far as quick wake-ups go, Dave must have made a word record. He shot awake, no sign of sleep-addlement clouding his panicked green eyes as he threw the blanket off himself, ran past Hal and bolted out the front door without so much as an umbrella to protect himself. By the time Hal had processed this, Dave was already long gone, away from his partner’s concern about going out in just his pajamas, whistling frantically and calling out names on the top of his lungs. And for a smoker, Dave sure had strong lungs.

Not a moment later were their pack of huskies beginning to file inside, soaked and shivering, whimpering at Hal against the cold. With not a moment to spare, he dashed to the washroom and fetched a pile of towels, enough to dry them all off, here’s hoping. One by one, he attended to the poor dogs, who were too well-trained to fight over Hal’s care, but still crowded him and licked at his arms in hopes that extra affection would have him attend to them next. He dried them off as fast as he could, but it still took quite a while to get all the frost off of a damn husky, of all breeds. 

Dave had arrived back into the safety of home, flanking the last one. “Light the fireplace,” Hal instructed, to which Dave efficiently obeyed. Hal pointed those who were dried as best as he could manage to that little alcove, hoping the remaining moisture and frost would melt and evaporate under the heat. When Dave knelt at his side and picked up a towel, Hal finally caught a glance over, and gaped at the sight. 

That man was positively drenched, ice water dripping off his hair and running down his now frost-bitten face as though he had jumped in a lake with his clothes still on. His teeth were chattering violently behind his closed mouth, causing his jaw to rapidly vibrate. Trembling hands gave him great difficulty in lending his assistance, and his entire body shivered with such a ferocity that he was obviously attempting to suppress it, make it seem like there was nothing to worry about. No way in hell was Hall allowing him to help in this condition.

“Dave,” Hal said firmly, and when the man in question met his eyes as if awaiting orders, he rested his right hand on his shoulder. “Dry yourself off, get changed into the warmest clothes you have, and go back under your blanket.” Hal hated phrasing things as orders, but sometimes it was the only way to get that stubborn mule of a lover he had to listen and take care of himself.

His response was a simple shake of the head, which was quiet even for Dave.

“Can you even speak right now, with your teeth chattering like that?” Hal inquired, frustration already building.

There was silence for a few long, telling moments, before Dave shook his head again. No matter how many times Hal nagged him, pestered him, or resorted to begging him, Dave would not budge. When asked for a reason, he finally spat out a spluttered “d-d-d-dogs… f-first…. Then m-m-me,” through a near-deafening orchestra of tooth clanking against tooth.

Well, that settled it, then. In reality, Hal couldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to; he just wished he would take care of himself sometimes instead of seeing to everyone else instead. Admittedly, Hal’s worry for the man he cared so deeply about never translated well into words. 

“You’ll catch your fucking death like this,” Hal growled as he rubbed off a pair of big, fluffy ears. Dave didn’t respond, just ducked his head a little, like an ashamed kid being told off by an authority figure for something they knew was wrong, but had done anyway, for whatever reason.

If only he knew how close to the truth he really was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo I got carried away with this one. This might end up being a little longer than I originally planned lmao, since Dave don't exactly take care of himself ever,, dumbass bastard  
> I say,, as I was the one to write him not doing so  
> But yeah!! I leave for uni in 12 days y'all holy shit...   
> I got my document hell and tuition sorted out,, just gotta find an on-campus job now to pay off the rest of my tuition by the end of the year rip me  
> At least I ended up having Anthropology scheduled with the rest of my DnD party, so that's a plus!!   
> These 5 spots are the cool kid desks in this 1500 student lecture hall   
> Anyway, thank you all so much for the positive reviews and kudos and comments last chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one!!

Despite Hal’s warnings towards his self-sacrificial nature, the next few days passed without incident. Sure, Dave had a stuffy nose and a mildly sore throat, but that wasn’t anything to get all riled up about. A common cold would hardly be the end of him, or his ability to function. It just meant that he’d been filing their trash cans with used tissues at an alarming rate. Of course, Hal took every opportunity to spiel his teasing “I told you so”s as Dave sniffled and coughed, sniffled and coughed, rinse and repeat. Although it was worth noting the relief he heard in his partner’s tone, as though Hal were glad that a cold was all he got stuck with, given the circumstances.

At least, that’s how it had initially seemed. 

Dave had been feeling progressively more drowsy over the past couple days, finding his energy drained even quicker than usual, and great difficulty in staying up past 10 o’clock. That night in particular, he had conked out around the late hour of 8pm, despite his best attempts at resisting the temptation of that blissful, welcoming embrace of slumber. He had been in the living room at the time, he remembered. He was leaning against Hal as they watched some flick he couldn’t quite recall on his laptop, and had passed out hard and almost instantly when he felt that gentle hand begin to play with his overgrown hair. 

Under different circumstances, Dave would have woken up with a crooked grin, accusing Hal of his treacherous villainy, for he had abused his power of Dave-knowledge once again! 

Unfortunately, the man in question was in no mood to act the part. His eyes reopened of their own accord, and already, Dave had the unpleasant sensation of a glossy film over his eyes. Instinctively, he reached his arm up to wipe it away with the back of his hand, only to find that the act of which stretched his stomach, the sudden nausea it released rapidly spreading from his abdomen to his throat, leaving an acidic taste in his mouth and balling up in his esophagus. What’s more, his throat was on fire, and he found it a challenge to catch his breath. 

Dave glanced to Hal’s side of the bed, finding him still fast asleep, unaware that Dave had woken up. Dark, wavy hair fell awkwardly over his face, and would he have felt up to it, Dave would’ve stolen a kiss to his forehead before settling back in. However, something told him he wouldn’t be getting much more sleep tonight. A quick look over to Hal’s beside table to the alarm clock beside his glasses confirmed it to be 1:40am. In finding that knowledge, Dave had rustled around a little too much, and he winced as a feeling not unlike a toxic gas bubbled up in his stomach. 

To stop it, Dave quickly sat up in bed, careful not to rustle too much as to wake up Hal. He hugged his legs to his chest, ducking his head into his knees, and for a few blissful moments, compacting himself ceased the slowly-building nausea, although squeezing his chest caused a few hoarse, stinging coughs to escape him. They burned his throat not unlike the sensation of whiskey washing down, except there was no buzz to make the experience worth it. Water. Water would soothe his sore throat, right? This was all just a random, night-time flare-up of the symptoms of his cold, right? It would all be gone in the morning; he just had to get through the night.

Getting out of bed proved to be a bigger challenge than Dave anticipated. Of course, there was the initial task of unravelling himself, leaving his stomach free to cause him strife. Not an impossible hurdle to jump over, just altogether unpleasant. He swung his legs over the side and stood up at a regular pace, only to become disoriented, his wobbly legs seeming to have the same qualities of jello as he struggled to find his centre of balance in the haze of his own dizziness. How absurd; he was Solid Snake! Solid Snake didn’t struggle to stand, Solid Snake was a hero! 

Then again, some truth could be lent to the saying about never meeting one’s heroes.

Within his first couple steps forward, Dave realized the extent of his current state. He didn’t just feel fatigued, he felt weak. Sure, he was practically made of muscle, but it hardly seemed to possess the ability to support his own weight at present. His legs shuddered under the strain, his vision was blurred and distorted further by the built-up moisture in his eyes that he couldn’t seem to blink or claw away, and the longer he spent out of bed, the colder he began to feel. By the time the poor man had left the room, he was shivering, breathing in raspy, aching wheezes, and leaning against the wall for support. His perception was severely limited, but he had been in this place long enough to run on auto-pilot. 

The acid in his throat began to grow rapidly worse, and Dave got the impression that his own body was ganging up on him. Heh, maybe this was how FOXDIE got him. Not with a heart attack, but a slow, painful demise, until he reached the point where he wished he was dead…

Okay, he had his moment to be dramatic, now back to the more pressing matter at hand.

Dave really didn’t feel up to trekking all the way to the kitchen for water, for he barely made it this far without collapsing. However, their washroom was a few feet away, and really, what was the difference? Tap water was the same, and still drinkable as any other form. With a bit of a stumble to his step, he managed to drag himself through the door and into the bathroom. Leaning heavily against the counter, Dave turned on the flow of water, only to end up staring at it, almost entranced by the stream, for a good ten seconds before shaking himself out of it. He was starting to lose himself again. It was too dark to catch his reflection in the mirror, but he wasn’t exactly confident in his good looks at the moment. 

An attempt was made to cup his hands to hold enough for a sip, but on the first try, it was discovered how much his hands were trembling. What once could hold his weight over a ledge by the mere grip of his pinky finger now struggled to maintain its most basic functionality. Still, Dave tried, and tried, and tried again, for he was certainly no quitter. However, every desperate failing chipped away at him, reminding him again and again of his sudden inability to do much of anything. His stomach churned as his jaw clenched with the growing frustration, and the nausea soon began to overwhelm him.

Dave gripped the sides of the sink, ducking his head into the bowl and focusing on the rhythmic noise of running water. The heat was beginning to drain from his skin, trickles of cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, running down his nose and cheeks. That acid wouldn’t let up; it began to rise at an alarming rate up his esophagus, only the leak back down at the last second, every repetitive motion of this causing his legs to wobble a little more, his breathing to get a little more laboured, his full consciousness to wane in and out, in and out. It was torture, in a sense. He had endured torture in the past, and it was often repetitive, leaving one hoping for the ending whip, just to be free of this never-ending dance. 

And, just like torture, once the ending had begun, one was powerless to stop it. 

Dave was jerked back into full awareness when the bile in his throat rose up a bit too high, finally breaking the barrier into his mouth. It tasted vile, with the unmistakable hints of his half-digested dinner still mixed in. His eyes shot wide open, his face no-doubt contorting into the same shocked disgust that assaulted his tongue. As quickly and prominently it had burst forth, it dripped back down, causing him to gag horribly on reflex. The next wave, however, was not so forgiving. It came fast, unexpectedly, without mercy nor remorse. Dave could hardly formulate a thought before his gag reflex spasmed out of control, and sent him vomiting almost violently into the sink, permanently and instantaneously losing any and all enjoyment he might have once harboured towards barbecue sauce, for the abhorrent concoction was not as delicious the second time around.

Dave wasn’t sure how long he was leaned over that sink, but he was sure of one thing: his stomach was damned determined to empty itself of any and all contents. He hardly got time to breathe in-between retches. Chunks of food turned into the mere smell of it, which turned into raw stomach acid, which turned into nothing, and left him dry-heaving over the drain as that cold sweat dripped into the mixture of still-running water and the contents of his own insides. But not all things last forever, and eventually, it all let up.

For a few, wonderful seconds, Dave was relieved, the built-up nausea finally gone, the only evidence of it left being a smear of stomach acid that clung to the corner of his mouth. If only he could cling to that temporary release for a bit longer, it might have been a fair trade for what he had just experienced. Sure enough, like clockwork, it began to ebb back into his gut, slowly, yet absolute. This last little blow-barely a flick, in the metaphorical sense-was enough to finally cross the threshold of his own weakened muscles. Dave couldn’t even shock himself as his legs simply gave out from under him, and he slid to the floor, his back against the cabinet door under the sink when he finally made it to the floor. He stared ahead at the blank wall in front of him, his vision still swimming and his chest still aching with every breath. It was cold, freezing, yet he was sweating. Still, despite all the discomfort, the repetitive sound of running water seemed to soothe him, put his mind to rest, and with it, he closed his eyes, his head lolling forward as an uncomfortable, shallow sleep overtook him.

===========================

It was a gentle, yet urgent shake to his shoulders that began to pull him out of the depths of unconsciousness. Dave’s other senses took a moment to calibrate, but one by one, they all flipped back on, in some watered-down versions of themselves.

The first was his hearing. “Dave? Hey, hey! C’mon, pal…” The voice was distant, like Dave was hearing it through a wall. “Respond to me, David!” Oh. That caught his attention, strained as it may be. Only Hal ever called him by his real name, and even then, only did extreme worry bring out the full title. Dave mustered up all his strength, and tilted his head to peer up at the man gazing down at him with a downright scared expression on his soft, wonderful face.

“Oh god… don’t scare me like that again, okay? I thought you were unresponsive!” Hal hardly gave him a chance to attempt a remark before a cold hand pressed up against his forehead, shocking him with its icy skin. Hal’s brow furrowed, accentuating how large his deeply blue eyes had grown. Only then did Dave notice that his glasses were missing. “Oh, no. You’re positively scorching. Oh, man, we need to get you back into bed, and I need to make sure your fever’s not too high. Can you get up?”

“Your-” Dave began to speak, but the exhalation of breath felt like he was swallowing a sword, without knowing the trick to it. The pain must have shown on his face, because a tinge of empathy flashed in Hal’s eyes. 

“Hey, don’t say anything if it hurts, okay? Just… don’t talk at all if it’s not important, and if it is, gesture to show me. Don’t speak.” Hal was speaking at about a million kilometers an hour, as he was never the best at keeping his own fears and anxieties under wraps in these types of situations. Funny enough, Dave found that comforting, in a way. It was consistent for Hal, his expressive, emotional Hal. 

Dave reached a pale hand up, trembling even worse than before, and with a bit of effort, managed to tap the bridge of Hal’s nose. At first, he blinked curiously, his eyes crossed for a split second as they were following Dave’s movements. It didn’t take long for him to decipher the message, as Hal was smart as well. So smart, so intelligent, much more so than Dave could ever hope to be. A regular Einstein, his Hal was. “Oh.” an almost tension-breaking chuckle escaped Hal. “Don’t worry, I didn’t lose my glasses again; I was just so worried that I forgot them on the nightstand.” Hal closed his own hands over Dave’s in a secure hold, and they felt warm now, steady, strong. 

One of those hands broke away from that anchoring grip, if only to find its place somewhere else. Hal cupped his cheek, supporting Dave’s heavy head, and once again, his palm was chillingly cold. Dave couldn’t help but let his head fall into that, knowing and trusting Hal to catch him as he whimpered against the returning onset of his previous symptoms. This prompted a gentle thumb to run over his cheek in a slow, rhythmic pace, wiping away the acidic residue from his mouth in the process. “Sshh,” came that calming voice. Hal continued to softly shush him, patiently soothing him, until the previously unknown tension in Dave’s muscles relaxed. 

“You’re really not feeling good, are you?” At Dave’s shake of the head, Hal continued. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Dave. It’s okay, though. Everything will be okay. I’ll take good care of you, until you’re all better. I promise!” That nerdy little voice of his, so optimistic even in the face of crushing concern, never failed to make Dave smile. Even now, horrific as he felt, he couldn’t help the tug of his lips, and somehow, when Hal said it, he didn’t feel so bad anymore.

A light tap to his shoulder alerted Dave to movement that he would have to make, and with a good wince, he got to his feet. Hal took the lead, but quickly fell back and caught his partner when Dave stumbled, opting instead to stay close and support his weight. For a scrawny guy, Hal was a lot stronger than he looked. If he struggled at all, he didn’t show it.

“Let’s get you back to bed, try to get some rest. I’ll get you a nice big glass of water, stay up, keep an eye on you, make sure you sleep okay and keep comfortable.” Without leaving room to protest, Hal leaned up a bit, and swept the stray hair away from Dave’s face, tucking it behind his ear. He followed up with a sweet, caring kiss to his forehead, enticing Dave to close his eyes and focus on that feeling instead of the nausea. 

Hal’s lips were calmingly warm.


End file.
